ferme les yeux
by Lumas Nocce
Summary: I wanted to write a story for more mature NiGHTS audiences, about the deeper meaning behind the dream worlds of the NiGHTS universe. I used my own life to create these new dream worlds. Warning: This does contain homosexuality, a sex crime, and bulimia.


THE FiRST NiGHT

Waiting in the shadows. Harsh clanging of school bells joined by far more pleasant chimes, beautiful, cacophonous. Falling from the shadows, I combust under the sun. A million papers whirling, musings and images of my own. An autumn leaf flutters before my face, veers off to the left, bursts into flame. I somehow turn to follow it and.

The first time I make a lucid decision in my dreams, I'm floating above a dark lake. Dark smog billows behind me, a sound like humorless laughter…

Interlude

It flew through the black sky. Up ahead, a star bean to shine.

THE SECOND NiGHT

Now I am contemplating the past events. Here I can remember all my dreams. Last night was bizarre, and the ending was even stranger. It's snowing on the lake.

Elsewhere

A silent boy with dark hair is standing on a balcony. Eyes like storm clouds reveal an age seemingly beyond his fifteen years. He thinks out loud "Maybe I should look under the lake?"

THE THiRD NiGHT

What the hell? That's all I've been thinking all day, and now it echoes in the darkness around me. These dreams, this weird lake, I can't stop thinking about them. Every time I draw a picture, there's a lake, I always mix colors like the dark gray water…

Maybe I'm losing it? Everyone always says I'm weird. Maybe.. Maybe I'm just some freak, another one for the institution. There's some pretty astonishing evidence there. A freak. "FREAK!" I scream. Lucidity: lost. "FREEEAK!" The lake is boiling. I fall in, and-

Elsewhere

Jaedin stands alone in a room of porcelain and tile. Dark hair falls over his silver eyes as he leans, breathing heavily on the maroon wall of a toilet cubicle. Still alone, the young artist picks up a messenger bag full of sketchbooks and art supplies. A toothbrush is concealed within, and is now put to use. Brush, wipe face, pop a mint. No one needs to know.

"Hey, freaky!" freak freak freak. Stupid nickname. Can't we get over kindergarten?! Jaedin wonders, glaring at some kid across the room. He makes a move to leave, but finds himself leaning on the sink, weak and a little dizzy.

"Smells kinda sick in here!" mutters the idiot, looking upon Jaedin with total disgust. Grabs the bag. "What's in here? Lots of worthless papers and crappy drawings, it looks like. Is that supposed to be a lake?" the words blend together, he can't hear, won't hear the pointless taunting. Just another day to get through… "Hey, you keep a diary?! Woah... okay, that I didn't need to see!"

"That's enough!" Jaedin calls out sharply, grabbing for his things. "You have no business in there!" He lunges to take his bag but falls, blind and dizzy, everything is brown spots and he tries to yell for help but gags, tumbling into a bottomless hole.

A strange being stands on the water as snow falls on my lake. He.. she? Is a bizarre creature, impossibly thin and long limbed clad in tattered purple and black clothes that seem to keep shifting? A consistent feature of the outfit is a splash of bright red, usually in the form of a jewel. One time, the jewel was on its chest, and I could see straight through into the hollow body. Black shimmering wings unfurl from its back as this bizarre vision twists as if in pain.

"Who ARE you?" I'm surprised to hear myself breaking the silence. In response, the hollow form overfills with something like ink, pouring out of its sleeves and collar and orifices, swirling on the water, coloring the snow, panting a picture to answer my questions but I can't see because I'm rising, slowly detaching myself fro this world and making a fuzzy return to the same oblivion.

Interlude

Such hate emanated from the dreamer, that it revealed the demon's true form.

The FiFTH NiGHT

The creature is still there. I can see it a little more clearly now. Its hands are like talons, long a viciously sharp. In a single stark white moment, I see the face impossibly pale like death, indescribable dark violet patterns, swirling and sharp around the eyes. Those big, dark eyes hold so much pain, and I think I am the cause for that pain. A brief heat flares in my eyes, and I see a tear flying out to the strange being, and its face melts away like paint.

Elsewhere

"Starvation," said the doctor.

"Purging," said the nurse.

"Devil-child," said the lady with the faux-leather purse.

THE SiXTH NiGHT

Another dream, and this time I have no control. I am.. flying? Maybe. Above me the sky is a golden pink, around me are strange towers, rising curved and beautiful, made out of rainbow glass. Like me, some of the spires defy gravity by glittering in midair. I land among them, leaping high into the air and soaring away. Laughing, reach out to touch one of the points of light that follow me through the sky. Are they keeping me afloat? With a small giggle, I alight upon the very tip of a glass construct, but this one crumbles and I fall through the dark, choking dust. From within this smog reaches a myriad of twisted vines and branches, ensnaring me so that I jerk to an abrupt and painful halt, and I'm dimly aware of my little violet light being blocked out by the weeds. I think this is more of a nightmare. Hanging in the branches is a mirror, and in it I am huge and bloated. I can feel that weight bubbling out within me, dragging on the branch I'm tangled in. In my reflection, the white star flies back away from me, and I become a screaming skeleton, sound waves blasting me from my plant shackles. I fall through a blur of insectoid whining and buzzing. In a panic, I feel my arms instinctively shooting straight out ejecting my last little light companion in a yellow flare, after which all fades to darkness.


End file.
